


Got to Choose

by LadyFrehley



Category: KISS (US Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, role play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-29 14:15:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19402000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyFrehley/pseuds/LadyFrehley
Summary: Paul is struggling with an identity crisis as well as a developing crush on the band’s lead guitarist.





	Got to Choose

All eyes were on the four men as they walked the streets of Amityville, New York, dressed head to toe in leather, seven inch platform boots, and white face paint. Naturally, Gene was in front, leading them to the studio where they would have their first official band photoshoot. 

The demon, the spaceman, and the catman were all certain and sticking with their makeup choices, but Paul, on a whim, had decided against his starchild persona, and gone for a look he coined ‘the bandit’. He walked beside Ace, breathing in so as to better fit into his diamond studded corset. Poor body image had been a lingering issue for the rhythm guitarist, and now that he was developing feelings for the lead guitarist, it was only getting worse. 

“We nearly there, Gene-o?” Ace, notorious for his bad balance, kept stumbling over his own feet, unused to wearing such high platforms. Being tipsy didn’t help much, either.

“I think so...” Gene studied the large map of Long Island, Peter walking beside him attempting to catch a glimpse. Gene wasn’t the best with directions, and the spaceman was growing impatient.

“Well, hurry the fuck up cos my feet are gettin- _WOAH!_ ” Ace tripped again, grabbing onto Paul’s arm. The weight of the skinny guitarist knocked Paul off balance as well, causing the two men to fall onto the pavement with a loud thud. 

“Woah, what the fuck?” Peter and Gene turned around to see Ace lying on top of Paul, and of course, all that mattered to Gene was money and not if anyone was hurt. 

“Watch it, you idiots! You know how much these costumes cost?”

Paul looked up at Ace. He looked so beautiful from that angle, his dark brown almond shaped eyes staring down at him, a small grin on his face. He was angelic in every sense of the word. 

With help from Peter, the spaceman began to stand up and brush himself off before reaching his hand down for Paul. Flustered, Paul allowed Ace to hoist him up.

“Oof, you’re a big boy.” Ace giggled once Paul was back on his feet, embarrassing the rhythm guitarist with his poor choice of words. Paul wanted nothing more at that moment than to run to the nearest bathroom and stick his fingers down his throat.

“Thanks for the landing, Paulie.” Ace winked, causing Paul to blush.

The two men stood looking at each other before Gene finally interrupted, “Um, can we get going please?”

After walking around in circles for what seemed like hours, the band finally made it to the studio right next door to The Daisy where they were playing a gig later on. Unbeknownst to the other members, Paul was extremely nervous and camera-shy, and he’d been dreading this photo shoot for days. He knew it would be a breeze for Gene who loved all the attention and the spotlight, Ace had been drinking so he was as cool as a cucumber, and Peter was a Brooklyn tough guy who probably didn’t even know the _definition_ of anxiety.

They entered the building, and the lady at the front desk looked up from her papers. She cocked an eyebrow at the strangely dressed men caked in makeup, “They didn’t tell me The Ringling brothers were comin’ to town.”

The band was silent, apart from Ace who let out a quiet giggle. Paul frowned. _Did they really look like circus clowns?_

The amused receptionist returned her attention to her papers. “Upstairs to the left.”

As the men walked through the hallway, Ace noticed Paul’s nervous expression and slipped his hand under his arm, holding him encouragingly. “Don’t be nervous, Paulie. You’re gonna do real good.” Paul wished he had Ace’s confidence, because at that moment he just felt like a fat slob in tight leather. 

“Do I look okay?” Paul asked, unsure of his new persona. He’d painted a mask consisting of two black diamond shapes under both eyes instead of his usual star, and he was starting to regret his decisionthe longer he thought about it. 

Ace smiled warmly and gave his arm a gentle squeeze, “You look _hot_ , Paulie. Don’t sweat it.” The spaceman added an unexpected peck on Paul’s cheek, soft enough so that his black lipstick wouldn’t stain his face paint, but it was enough to make Paul lose control. He exhaled shakily as his groin hardened beneath his leather tights, embarrassed but thankful Gene and Peter hadn’t seen.

The room was small, with a medium sized red backdrop for the photoshoot in the middle. Fog machines and lighting equipment were set up, as well as clothing racks stocked with numerous costume backups. Paul gulped. This was his first taste of fame, and he wasn’t sure he was ready for it. 

“Okay, which one’s Ace?” The photographer asked.

“That’d be _me_ , curly.” Ace raised his hand, downing one of the free beers from a cooler. 

Paul watched from the side as the photographer snapped photo after photo of Ace. The fog machine added a mysterious aura while he posed, head titled back and mouth slightly open. Paul _loved_ that look. The 22 year old had never seen such beauty in his life, and he knew he’d have to be the luckiest man alive to ever receive Ace’s affections. He hadn’t known him long, but all he dreamed about was Ace, his talented fingers all over his body, his perfectly pink lips kissing down his neck. He’d seen Ace kiss other men before, wishing it was him so badly and even fantasizing about it in bed at night when his parents had gone to sleep. He’d close his eyes, run his hand down his pajama pants, and pretend it was Ace. To Paul, that’s all the celestial would ever be. A _fantasy_. He was too shy to ask or make a move; he knew Ace would just have to remain in his dreams and nothing more. 

“Your turn, Paulie.” Ace’s voice brought him back to reality, but he stayed put like a frightened rabbit. Now that the moment was actually here, Paul was having second thoughts and hating Gene with every fiber of his being for arranging this. He’d _never_ match up to Ace’s looks or Gene’s high standards; he’d only ruin the entire photoshoot. Paul shook his head and took a step back, hoping that was enough to make Ace back off, but knowing in his heart that there was no way out of this. 

“C’mon, Paulie.” Ace approached him with a smile and took hold of his hand, leading him over to the backdrop. The photographer must have thought he was a real pussy, especially after refusing to take his jacket off. 

“How dya want him?” Ace asked the photographer. 

“Uh...let’s try hands on the hips, legs spread.” Paul didn’t move. He just stood there looking at the camera. Ace sighed and bent down in front of Paul, his face dangerously close to Paul’s crotch. He grabbed the rhythm guitarist’s legs and opened them wide. Paul appreciated that Ace was trying to help, but in a way, the celestial was only making things worse. Practically breathing on his dick didn’t exactly ease his anxiety.

“How’s that, curly?” He asked the photographer.

“Um...good.”

Ace stood back up and tousled Paul’s curls, placing a finger under his chin and tilting his head back. Anyone would think _Ace_ was the photographer the way he was taking over. “Now gimme those lips.”

Paul’s eyes widened, “... _What?_ ”

“That kissy face you do.” Ace giggled. 

“Oh.” Paul complied, puckering his big red lips like he was about to kiss his bandmate, like he so _desperately_ wanted to. Ace stepped back and observed the rhythm guitarist, admiring how he’d posed him. A satisfied smile crept across his face. “Perfect.”

“Great, now can you get your ass off the set, please?” Gene rolled his eyes, ready to drag Ace away himself. 

“Alright, alright, don’t get your panties in a twist.” Ace left Paul, muttering insults in his made up Jendellian language as he passed by Gene. 

“What did you say?”

“Nothin’!”

It felt as if Paul’s segment of the photoshoot lasted forever, pose after pose, take after take. Paul stood as still as possible, his fingers in his hair, lips puckered, and legs in a slightly effeminate  position. He’d see Ace out the corner of his eye, watching and whispering things to Peter, and he couldn’t help but wonder if he was making fun of him. But little did he know Ace was actually whispering about how cute Paul looked.

“Isn’t he just the cutest fuckin’ thing you ever saw?” Ace rested his chin on his hand, watching Paul talk to the photographer. 

“Meh.” Peter replied. 

Finally, to Paul’s relief, the photographer dismissed him and called for Gene. He slumped down next to Ace and sighed, already hating the pictures without even seeing them. Aware of his disappointment, Ace slipped his hand under Paul’s arm again. He turned to look at the lead guitarist who smiled before licking his lips. Paul nearly fainted at the sight. 

“Look at Gene.” Peter scoffed at the demon practically eating the camera, “I’ll bet ya $5 he takes pictures of himself naked, for God’s sake.”

“5? I’ll bet ya _10_ , cat.” Ace giggled. He started stroking Paul’s arm, unaware of how much he was turning his bandmate on. Just the simplest touch was driving Paul crazy. 

While waiting for Peter to finish up his turn, Paul and Ace sat in silence, Ace continuing to stroke up and down Paul’s arm. He knew it was just Ace’s way of comforting him, and it _did_ make him feel a little better, but it was taking everything in him not to lunge at his bandmate and take him right then and there. 

When the photoshoot was finally over, the four men headed to The Daisy where they would be playing two shows a night for four days. It was a humble venue, with only a handful of people turning up to see what was promised to be a kick ass rock n roll show, but what really took the cake was the death threat. 

“I didn’t know gay pride was in town.” One of the club bouncers laughed as the band walked through the doors. Ace didn’t laugh this time; he was getting pretty tired of the insults. Gene and Peter weren’t phased by the almost giant men who looked like they could break a guy like Ace in half with ease, but they scared the absolute hell out of Paul.

They started making kissing noises. “How much do you charge, toots?” One of them laughed at Paul, the most feminine looking of the group. This irked Ace tremendously, but he didn’t _dare_ say anything. Even if he teamed up with Peter who had also been in a gang, they could never in a million years take on these guys. 

“Fags like you should be killed on the spot.” The biggest man eyed Paul. Even in his heels, Paul didn’t reach the bouncer’s neck, and he was practically quivering beneath him. 

“And I‘ll gladly be the one to do it.” He cracked his knuckles, and for the band, that was the last straw. They ran to the club owner’s office, and locked themselves inside. 

“Ya still got that knife on ya from the photoshoot, cat?” Ace whispered.

“Hell no, they took that shit off me!”

“Nobody’s killing anyone.” Gene shot Ace’s stupid idea down.

“You’ve always gotta be the fuckin’ voice of reason, don’t ya, Gene?” Ace sighed.

“Yeah!” Peter scowled at the bassist, “Okay! Let’s just wait in here until the bastards kill _us_ first! Good fuckin’ thinking, Gene!”

Paul remained silent while the three men bickered back and forward, the bouncer’s harsh words replaying in his head like a broken record. He’d been struggling with his sexuality for years, even seeing a therapist over it, and to have someone threaten him like that was a crushing blow. He was truly fearing for his life, and he wasn’t leaving that room for anybody. 

“Aw, Paulie, it’ll be okay.” Ace wrapped his arms around his bandmate while the drummer and bassist kept arguing. “Nobody’ll hurt ya while I’m around.”

“Ace, they’ll _annihilate_ you.” Paul knew Ace couldn’t do shit to stop those guys; he was half their height and probably weighed as much as one of their arms.

“Yeah, that’s probably true.” Ace giggled before gently kissing the top of Paul’s head, Gene and Peter too busy fighting to notice. 

They stayed put in that small office until seven o’clock when they were practically forced out by the manager. Despite the upset, the show went on, and a small crowd of people were treated to ‘New York City’s heaviest glitter band’, and some of the loudest, rowdiest music they’d ever heard. Ace kept a close eye on Paul and rarely left his side throughout the entire show, sensing his unease due to the bouncers still hanging around. He could see them in the back smooching at Paul and laughing, and Ace wanted nothing more than to run over and beat the shit out of them with his guitar. 

They closed the performance with ‘Deuce’ and a decent round of applause before packing up their instruments and heading for the door, the bouncers guarding the only exit. Luckily, they moved aside as the four men left, but they still weren’t finished with Paul. 

“Hey, ya nevah gave me ya number, toots!”

The last out the building, Paul kept walking, avoiding eye contact until the biggest bouncer grabbed him by the arm. 

“He’s talkin’ to you, fag.”

Noticing the dilemma from outside, Ace dropped his guitar case and rushed back after his bandmate while Gene and Peter watched in shock. Ace was going to get himself killed.

“Let go of him, fucker!” Without thinking, Ace kicked the bouncer in the crotch as hard as he could, grabbing Paul’s hand and running for his life. 

“GO! GO! GO!” Ace yelled as he ran past Gene and Peter. 

“What did you do?!” Gene asked, trying to keep up.

“I kicked him in the dick, curly!” 

“Oh my fuckin’ god, Ace,” Peter facepalmed, “guess our next gig’s your funeral!”

Once the band got far enough away that they felt safe, it was dark out and time to split. Gene used the nearest payphone to call his mother and ask for a ride home, while Peter took the subway back to Brooklyn, leaving Paul and Ace by themselves.

“Shame I don’t have my cab. I coulda drove you back to the Bronx.” Paul looked around, unfamiliar with the area they were in. 

“Listen, Paulie, I kinda don’t got a place to stay tonight...Kinda got into a fight with Mom n’ Pop and they kicked me out...” Ace chuckled, “Any chance I could stay with your folks tonight?”

Paul shrugged, “...Sure. Why not? I don’t think they’ll be awake anyway.”

“Cool. Let’s take the subway. I don’t feel like hailin’ a cab.” Ace stretched, letting out a cute little yawn.

“Are you _nuts_? What if we bump into those assholes from The Daisy?”

“We’ll be fine, Paulie. Nobody’s nuts are safe while Ace is around.  That fucker won’t be makin’ babies anytime soon.”

Tired, Paul gave in and agreed to take a train back to Queens. Fortunately, not a lot of people were around at such a late hour, so the gawking at their appearance was minimal.

“I was so scared...” Paul said after about twenty minutes of silence. There were only three other passengers on the train, and two were asleep, but Paul kept his voice down so only Ace could hear. “I thought he was gonna _kill_ me.” Paul felt like crying, but put up a macho front for the lead guitarist.

Ace looked at him with a skewed frown and threw his arm around his shoulder, holding him close. Paul lay his head on Ace’s shoulder, and didn’t speak again for the rest of the ride. 

The train finally arrived in Queens, and the two men stepped out into the cold night. They walked side by side to Paul’s apartment in Kew Gardens, Ace eventually taking hold of Paul’s waist, making him blush as red as a tomato. He couldn’t decide if all this touching was subtle flirting or just Ace trying to be nice, but either way, it was driving him nuts.

Paul opened the front door as quietly as possible, his boots clicking against the floor as he tip toed inside followed by Ace. It was pitch black; he had no option but to turn a light on in order to see where he was going. The small kitchen lit up. “You want something to eat? I make a mean peanut butter jelly.” 

“Nah. I’m good, Paulie. _You_ should eat though. You look like a toothpick.” Ace felt Paul’s arm, sending shivers up the rhythm guitarist’s spine. He was so close to the breaking point it was ridiculous.

“ _Me_? A _toothpick_?” Paul scoffed, “Please. I look like a sumo wrestler.” 

Before Ace could retaliate, a voice called from down the hall, “Stanley, turn the lights off!”

Paul rolled his eyes and called back, “Okay, ma.”, quiet enough so not to wake his sister. He turned to Ace, “Come on.” He lead his bandmate to his bedroom and closed the door behind them. 

“Nice room, Paulie.” Ace looked around before flopping on the bed. Band posters hung on the purple walls, as well as dream catchers, peace signs, and tie dye cloth. A string of fairy lights and stars Paul had stuck on the ceiling lit up the dark room.

Paul took a blue coloured album from his bookshelf and carefully placed the record on the record player. The needle made contact, and a beautiful piano medley began to play followed by a male vocalist Ace recognized. 

“Elton John...” Paul smiled down at the record, “I love this guy...” He sang along softly to ‘Tiny Dancer’, engrossed in the music. After noticing Ace had been silent for a while, he turned around and nearly drooled at the sight before him. 

Ace was lay on his side on the bed, a seductive smile on his face. “C’mere, big boy.” He beckoned Paul over with a finger. Trying not to think too hard about why Ace kept calling him ‘big boy’, Paul slowly walked over to the spaceman, stopping at the bed. He looked down at the angelic man lying on his purple sheets, unsure what to do next. He gasped when Ace suddenly reached up, pulled his neck down, and pressed their lips together. 

It was as if another side of Paul emerged as he climbed on top of Ace and straddled his waist, kissing the lead guitarist passionately. Ace rested his head against the fluffy purple pillow behind him and tilted his head back as Paul kissed down his neck and started tugging at his leather shirt. 

“Careful, Paulie, you know how much that costs?” Ace imitated Gene and giggled. 

“I’ll rip it off if I have to, baby.” Paul growled, finally lifting it over Ace’s head and tossing it across the room. He kissed around Ace’s right nipple, flicking it with his tongue, a soft moan escaping Ace’s lips. 

“ _Jesus_ , Paulie...” His mouth opened, looking up at the rhythm guitarist through half-lidded eyes. Paul removed his jacket and corset, tossing them in the same direction as Ace’s shirt. 

“ _That’s_ what those cost, Gene.” 

Ace cackled at Paul’s sassy comment, stroking his furry chest. He licked down the celestial’s exposed stomach to where a line of pubic hair began, and looked up at him with hungry eyes. 

“This is a robbery, baby.” Paul’s new persona seemed to be taking over as he opened Ace’s pants and pulled out his throbbing member. He’d seen it numerous times before, most recently while the band was driving to a gig. They’d heard slapping noises coming from the back seat and turned around to see Ace randomly jacking off, and it was a sight Paul had never forgotten, one he thought about all the time.

Paul held Ace’s dick in his hands, studying it. It was bigger than average and strangely... _attractive_. He felt stupid just thinking that. “Do all Jendellians have massive cocks?”

“Nope. Just this one.” Ace smiled proudly. “You wanna go for a ride, babe?”

“Hell yeah.” Paul impatiently pulled his boots off, followed by his leather pants, and positioned himself over Ace.

“Wait! You got lube?” Ace asked, only getting silence from Paul. “...You’ve never done this before have you, Paulie?”

“ _Sex?_ Yeah, I have! Plenty of times!”

“Ya can’t just go in dry.” Ace explained, “Jesus Christ. Ya want my dick to fall off?”

“Maybe.” Paul teased. He watched as Ace spat in his hand and pumped himself a few times, “That should do the trick. Ya ready?”

“No, I wanna role play...I _am_ the bandit, after all.” Paul licked his lips, the view below him so deliciously tempting. He climbed off of the lead guitarist and reached for two long necklaces on the dressing table. “Put ‘em up.” He ordered Ace to hold his arms up while he tied them to each side of the bedpost, repeating the same process with his ankles. 

“Oh, no! What’re you gonna do to me? I ain’t got any money!” Ace played along, unable to keep himself from giggling.

“Stop it, people don’t giggle when they’re getting robbed.” Paul sat on top of the now restrained spaceman and leaned down close to his ear, “No money, you say? Well,...I’ll just have to take somethin’ else then...” He ran his hand down Ace’s tummy and grabbed onto his dick, positioning it at his entrance.

“Oh no! Anything but _that_!” Ace laughed. “I’m just a innocent, penniless Jendellian! Please, bandit!”

“You gotta pay up, baby.” Paul slowly lowered himself down onto Ace, closing his eyes and breathing heavily through his mouth as he was stretched to his full capacity.

“Jesus, Paulie, you’re _tight_. _Fuck_.”

“I’m _not_ Paul, you slut.” Paul was getting frustrated by Ace’s lack of enthusiasm when it came to role playing, and part of him was worried they’d wake up his family. He’d never forgive himself if his sister found them; she was already going through enough as it was. 

“What’re ya gonna do to me, bandit?” Ace asked, his mouth ajar and eyes lustful. 

“I’m gonna ride you over the moon, spaceman.” Sick of talking, Paul began to lift himself up and down on Ace’s dick, watching as his bandmate practically squirmed beneath him, unable to move from being tied up.

His dedication to role playing began to fade away as he listened to the record playing, enjoying the music while grinding on his ‘helpless victim’, who seemed to be in a state of pure bliss. 

“ _Harder_ , bandit!” Ace begged.

“You’ve forgotten who’s in charge here, spaceman.” Paul forced himself down as hard as he could as punishment. 

“AHHH.” Ace cried out; it hurt, but it hurt _good_. 

“ _SHH_!! You’ll wake my parents!” Paul covered Ace’s mouth with his hand, going back to his regular pace. Beads of sweat began to form on his forehead. He was getting tired of doing all the work, and in a way regretted tying Ace up. With one hand pumping his own dick, Paul leaned down and kissed Ace’s open mouth, his tongue soon making its way inside, battling with Ace’s. 

Shaky, desperate moans filled the room as Ace started thrusting upward, bumping into Paul’s prostate. He admired the bandit from below, his silky curly hair bouncing with every movement, and those two front teeth peeking out from behind his big plump lips.

“Oh, daddy, _please_!” Paul threw his head back, forgetting _he_ was supposed to be the dominant one. No one had ever made him feel this way before, not even women, and he was loving every second. His belly grew warm and tingly like butterflies were fluttering around as Ace thrusted up harder, trying with everything in him to keep his voice down. 

“You gonna let me have it, daddy?” Paul looked down at the celestial who he could tell was almost there by the look on his face. He was so gorgeous, especially in that position. Helpless and vulnerable.

“Oh, GOD, Paulie, I’m gonna-“ Ace squeezed his eyes shut, finally unloading inside Paul with a few more desperate, fast thrusts. The warm feeling in Paul’s tummy intensified as he pumped himself harder, still riding Ace and trying to hold back any noises.

Climaxing, Ace’s smile was enough to send Paul over the edge. “OH, GOD!” He covered his mouth as cum shot onto Ace’s stomach, muffling a loud, feminine moan. 

Exhausted, the bandit collapsed on top of Ace, his head resting on his quickly rising and falling chest. He closed his eyes and smiled as he felt Ace kiss his hair, his orgasm slowly fading away.

“ _Fuck me_ , Paulie, that was somethin’ else.” Ace giggled, attempting to catch his breath. 

“I know...It was out of this world.” 

After a few minutes, Paul lifted himself off of Ace, untied him, and rolled over next to him with a sigh. He snuggled up to the lead guitarist and traced little circles on his chest with his finger, amazed at how hot and passionate that was. 

“Y’know what,” Paul yawned, sleepily nuzzling his head against Ace’s neck, “I think tonight proves I’m meant to be the Starchild.”

“Yeah, I gotta agree, it suits ya better, Paulie. Besides, the Starchild would probably be less fuckin’ embarrassing at role playing...” Ace laughed hysterically as Paul smacked him repeatedly with a pillow, “Like you were any fuckin’ better, giggles mcgee!”

With a few more laughs and kisses, the two men drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms, Paul’s record player in the background like a sweet lullaby. 


End file.
